


In Plain Sight

by Toki_Blade



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Culture, Injury, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toki_Blade/pseuds/Toki_Blade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been this way as long as John can remember; as long as his dad can remember. Jade’s grandfather remembered though. He used to tell stories as they fell asleep under the stars. He’s gone now- lost to the world. Much like the rest of their race will be soon enough.</p>
<p>They’ve taken over and soon the human race will be entirely eradicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> whoop. Story time. (I really need to stop) 
> 
> (hey I have like so many stories in the process, so if you like one let me know and I can focus on that)
> 
> A human in a troll’s society.

The first conscious thought that entered John’s head was _ow that really hurts_. The next ones were something along the lines of _where am I? why does my head hurt so much?_ and _should my leg look like that?_ It was bent awkwardly, with the toes pointing toward him, but he had the feeling that he’d have to be twisted up like taffy to be able bend like that. He tried to move and _owowowowow_. He lay there for god knows how long before the burn in his leg was manageable again. So apparently, _no_ , his leg was _not_ supposed to look like that.

John found that if he glanced around without moving his neck he didn’t want to cry out in agony every five seconds. It didn’t give him a very good view of his surroundings, but it wasn’t like he had much else to do.

He appeared to be in a forest. (well duh. he knew that already) He didn’t recognise the area though. (not that he ever did) From what he could see though (which were the tops of trees and a mass of concerningly broken branches) there was a cliff off to his right. A cliff that he had certainly been on top of previously. Well, that explained the broken leg at least.

But why was he at the bottom? How did he even-

John almost screamed again when he remembered.

The attack.

It had been a surprise, they had all been caught off guard. John didn’t know how many of theirs had died, and he was filled with the sick contemptment that he’d seen a few of the opposing side fall as well. Had the dark satisfaction of knowing that he’d gotten a few himself. It was actually harder to kill one of them then it was a human. (lord forbid he ever actually _consider_ doing that. they’re numbers were dwindling by the day) Their skin was thicker, not as... fleshy. John might compare it to the leather-hard state of the clay he’d gotten to mess with when they’d run into some Makers a few years back. Only more grey. And also attached to a vicious beast who could tear you apart in under a minute with it’s _claws_ alone. He shuddered, then whimpered at the spike of pain that shot through his body.

He didn’t remember falling, but the broken state of the branches around and above him and his twisted leg were proof enough. There were scratches all along his bare arms and his pants were ripped in a few places. He was actually pretty impressed that they were still intact at all. He’d have to thank Rose later.

If there was a later.

If he didn’t die out here.

If Rose was even still _alive_.

John’s throat clenched tightly and his eyes welled with watered down salt. He couldn’t think like that. He just couldn’t. Rose was still alive. She _had_ to be. And so was Jade, and Dave, and Bro, and his  dad. They were all fine. He was just overreacting. He just had to wait here until they came to find him. Just a while longer and Jade’s smiling face would peak out from over the cliff’s edge and she’d giggle and shout ‘ _found him guys! haha! silly! don’t worry, we’ll be down in a minute!_ ’

Except she didn’t.

No one was coming to find him.

_Because they’re all dead_  a voice told him; but he refused to listen. They _couldn’t_ be dead. They were _fine_. They just thought that _he_ was dead.

John’s heart sunk further.

He couldn’t think like that. They’d find him. They were still alive. _He_ was still alive. He just had to be patient.

John stilled (not that he wasn’t still before, he just slowed his breathing more) and listened.

He didn’t actually hear anything.

Besides the gentle wind and the sound of his own shallow breaths.

And the ragged hacking that started up about two minutes ago.

Wait. What?

John whipped his head around, and then bit back a scream at the pain coursing through his body.

There was someone else here with him.

_There was someone else here with him_.

What if it was someone else from the convoy? He didn’t really want any on from his group to be in the same position as he was, but at the same time he _really_ didn’t want it to be one of _them_.

He tried to call out a ‘hello’ but only managed a gurgling noise from the back of his throat that made his lungs ache with the effort.

The horrid coughing had turned wet sounding, and John knows that there was now blood added somewhere to the equation.

Whoever it was was in just as bad of shape as he was; if not worse.

John inches his head to the left, betting all that he has (which isn’t much anymore) that the person(?) is on that side. Every twitch and every centimeter is an entirely new wave of agony. He actually almost blacks out a few times.

Maybe his neck is broken, and every little tilt of the head brings him that much closer to death.

When his neck is completely lying to the left John is still alive. He stills again, breathing slowly to calm the burn of his nerves. His eyes have closed of their own accord; too much work to keep them open while he moved the bare minimum. He is exhausted and all he really wants to do is to sleep. He is so very tired, and it’d be so easy to just drift off. So easy to just let go...

He can’t though. If he does that then he might not wake back up again. And there might be someone here who needs his help (though he’s not sure what he can really do in the state he’s in right now) or could possibly help him.

John steels himself and takes the deepest breath he dares, and opens his eyes.

John wanted to scream again. He wanted to cry out, to howl with _angerpainsadness_ , but knew he didn’t have the lungs for it. He could barely breath in as it was, and didn’t want to test his luck. He tried to swallow but only managed to gather bile in the back of his throat.

It was one of _them_.

It was pinned down by a heavy looking branch. John figured the branch had broken when he fell- though he didn’t know if _it_ had fallen with him, or if it was down here and had been unlucky enough to get crushed by the fallen wood. Either way John sincerely hoped that he had been the one who had caused it’s downfall.

It coughed again, tremors racking through it’s entire body, John could see blood (red, he never thought it’d be red, thought they’d be more alien than that) forming at the corner of it’s mouth he was so close.

He wanted to gag. A warm, moist, metallic smell that he hadn’t noticed before filled his nose. They always smelt like blood. _Human_ blood. It made him sick.

It seemed smaller than they usually did. More lithe. John always thought that they were bigger than the average human (of course things always seemed bigger when they were ripping off the heads of your friends and family). This one might even be smaller than him.

The hair (John _hated_ calling it hair, it made them seem almost _human_ ) on it’s head was inky coal and just barely covered it’s sad excuse for horns (weren't they supposed to be threatening or something?). John had a hard time finding anything ominous about it while it lay there- trapped under that branch with those sorry little horns- but he knew that it could rip him apart with it’s bare hands if they were faced one on one.

Now though, as he stared at it, motionless under the heavy lumber, now it was harmless.

It was still for the moment, eyes closed, barely breathing. John couldn’t tear his eyes away from the drying blood around it’s mouth. So red. So, _human_.

Suddenly, John felt very much like he had just smashed a fly, but it was still wriggling it legs, because it was still alive. Still in pain.

It was also a self aware, _intelligent_ being that probably had family, and friends and-

And _John_ had family and friends. Who were either dead or dying, and he would never even know because _he_ was dying.

And that _thing_ had probably killed _hundreds_ of humans, it’s _friends_ and _family_ probably just killed _his_ friends and family.

He couldn’t feel sorry for it. No matter how helpless it looked now. No matter how wounded. No matter how _human_.

It was a murderous _monster_. It killed without thinking twice. Heck. It’s body was practically _built_ to be a killing machine.

No.

No. John refused to feel- feel _pity_ for this _creature_. It was a _murderer_ that wouldn’t even delay in killing him on the spot.

But as John watched it’s body flail helplessly and jolt violently with another coughing attack, he knew he couldn’t just _leave_ it there. It looked _so_ helpless, and _so_ in pain, and so so _so_ very human. And John was _so very_ alone.

John sighed, and returned his gaze to his own body, now elongated with the change of view.

Before he could help someone else, he had to help himself.

He hefted his weight, inch by inch with new found energy. His weak hand gripped his leg, and pushed.

John screamed.


	2. 2

He must have passed out.

John was now resting lightly against a tree. His leg was straightened out in front of him, but still bent awkwardly in a few places. He didn’t remember passing out, but also didn’t really remember what had happened. He remembers shifting and his leg was on _fire_  and the _painpainpain_ -

John decided not to think about it any more.

The rest of his body was still stiff and sore, but he could move it now, despite it’s protests. Nothing could be worse after-

Yeah.

He inched his arms around until he felt a branch and pulled.

It was heavy, and too long, but it would work. Hesitantly, slowly, he managed to break off the end and lay it next to his leg. One down, one to go.

He thought he’d felt another branch during his search for the other one, so he reached around the same way. When he felt the rough bark beneath his fingertips, he grasped, and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

It must have been attached to a larger, heavier part of the tree that he couldn’t move from the position he was in if at all.

John readjusted himself ( _owowow_ ) and felt behind himself on the other side. When his arm hit the tree he cursed and stretched a bit further. It felt like that time Jade had tried to get him to do the splits. His arm was trying to stretch past its normal bounds, even though he knew it was probably just because he was so stiff.

The very tip of his middle finger brushed against something coarse and hard. He stretched even further, tilting dangerously, his arm felt as if  it might rip out of his socket any moment now. He twisted his fingers around the tip of the branch add shifted it slightly so he could get a better grasp on it.

He hefted it over and steeled himself as he moved it over his body. He wanted to cry at the exertion, and did as it brushed up against his leg, but he managed to get it up and over his body roll it up on the other side of his leg.

John slumped back down, breaths heavy and labored. Now came the easy part.

He hefted his shirt over his head, which actually took more effort than he’d like to admit. John held the edge of his shirt between his two hands, and ripped it.

Or... he tried to at least. The fabric just kind of stretched and returned back to normal when he released it.

Man. That always worked in the stories!

John huffed and tried again. Using his strength until his arms shook at the effort, he managed to rip some of the seams.

He didn’t know how longs it took him to rip his shirt into strips, but it felt like hours.

After resting for a few minutes (but what was probably longer, his internal clock was so screwed right now) he took one strip and eased it under his upper thigh and the two sticks, biting his lip as he did so. He was trying to distract himself with different pain, but his leg outweighed his lip biting immensely and he could already taste blood. He tied the strip tight, wincing, and reached for another one.

The further he went down his leg the more effort it took. He had to lean forward and jostle his leg ever so slightly, but the more strips he added, the less his leg moved on it’s own.

When he reached his ankle he tied off the strip and sat back, breathing heavy, to look over his handy work. It was crude at the very best, but he’d never actually had to make a splint before; had never actually broken a _bone_  before, and he was suddenly very glad that Jade had forced him to learn these seemingly useless skills, if only in idea.

He was hit with another wave of depression. Why hadn’t anyone found him yet? _Because they’re all dead_. A voice answered, is sounded scarily similar to Rose. He wanted to call it his negative thinking, that he should just look on the bright side of things, but he knew it was just his logical side. The side that warned him when he was about to do something stupid or pull a prank that might be just a little mean on someone. That voice always sounded like Rose.

 _Think about it._  Rose voice said, _I_ _t’s only logical. You fell down here so they let you be, they figured that you were dead, then then moved on and killed the rest of-_

“Shut up!” He yelled, surprised at his own volume, he didn’t even know he could draw in enough breath to get that loud.

 _They’re fine_. He told himself. _Fine_.

_And what if they’re not?_

He chose to ignore the Rose Voice and looked over at his most likely dead companion.

Who turned out to be not so dead.

It was staring over at him, with large, yellow black eyes. It’s pupils were dilated so much, he couldn’t even tell what color the iris was.

It was watching him.

He wandered off handedly how long it had been awake and _staring_  at him for; but decided that it freaked him out too much to think about for too long. It was so quiet, so still, the only sign that it was even alive was when it _blinked_  every so often.

John shifted and tried to look anywhere but it’s large, blank eyes. “Uh, hey.” He called, in a shaky voice, and instantly berated himself. _What was he doing_!? It was the _enemy_. He didn’t even know if they spoke the same language (didn’t actually know if it spoke any language at all) but he was so _very_  lonely. And as long as he was going to die out here he might as well die talking.

A vague memory of Dave telling him that while laughing and telling a joke made a lump form in his throat.

He swallowed, they were probably both going to die out here. John reveled in that. Not because one of _them_  was going down _with_  him, but because _he_  wouldn’t have to go _alone_. “Hey.” He tried again, “Uh, nice weather we’re having?” What did you talk about with you kind’s murderer? What did you even say?

It stared at him, furrowing it’s eyebrows (he didn’t know that they had eyebrows) and, ever so slowly, blinked.

“Uh, I’m John.” He said, motioning to himself, “John.”

Blink.

“Um, well, what about you?”

Blink.

“Your, ah, name?”

Blink.

He was getting nowhere with this.

John sighed. “You know, if you don’t start talking to me, I’ll just have to talk for the both of us.” He sent a coy smile it’s way, “And believe me, I can.”

It didn’t answer, just continued staring at him.

John shifted and winced when his leg was jostled, “Uh, okay. This is actually kind of awkward. I mean, haha, I don’t even know if you can understand me? I mean, it’s cool if you can. I just, do, uh, do you guys speak a different language? Or even speak at all? I’ve never really sat down with one of you before, but, uh, I guess that might be because you guys always try to kill us? What’s up with that anyways? Are we just in the way? You guys don’t eat us or anything, right? Or maybe it’s just sport? Like, uh, Jade’s grandfather used to tell us stories about when he was a kid, and how once he-”

It made a low growl sound then let out a long gust of air through clenched teeth, their eyes met and it’s eyes narrowed, “Stap.”

John blinked. “Oh! So you can talk! See, I thought maybe I was really just talking to myself! And that’d be really actually kind of silly. And you’d probably think something like how this weird human is just making a bunch of weird sounds, but I’m not, because I’m actually talking to you and you understand me. At least I _think_  you do. You do right? I mean, maybe you only know a bit? Like you guys pick up on stuff when you’re killing us? So I guess that’s kind of, well, it’s not cool, just-”

“Jjah-nn-uumahn. Stap taak, noh.” And then it made the angry ‘ _shhhhrrrr_ ’ sound again.

John simply stared at his companion. “Uh, was that even English? I mean, I guess I could get something out of it? Did you say my name? And stop? Am I too loud? Does your head hurt? Oh, man! I bet that tree is _real_  uncomfortable. I’d uh, help you move it. If I was mobile, and if you wouldn’t, you know, _kill me_  once you were free. ‘Cuz that’d be, uh, bad.”

It stared at him like he was an idiot, and John was actually starting to _feel_  like one, too. “Sorry, I guess I am kind of talking a lot. I kind of talk a bunch when I’m nervous, and being around something that is kind of my species virtual predator is _kind_  of actually really nerve racking. Even if you are trapped. Under that tree. Aw, man. Actually, I really _would_  help you if I could move at all. But you know, broken leg, it kind of hurts like all get out.” He trails off again, because his companion is giving him this pained annoyed look, and John has a sinking feeling that it’s not a ‘ _I’m-in-pain-so-please-stop- making-noise-you-annoying-worthless-human_ ’ look, and more of an ‘ _oh-my-god-are-all-humans- so-idiotic-shut-the-fuck-up-you-useless-waste-of-space-or-i-will-end-you_ ’ look.

“Sorry.” John said again, because really, he had someone to talk to, and he wasn’t alone, and now he was pretty sure he just made them hate him. If it didn’t already hate him.

 _If it didn’t want to kill him_.

It merely rolled it’s eyes and turned it’s head, clearly ignoring him.

John sighed, he turned his gaze to the golden tinted leaves far above his head. The sun was setting and soon it would be dark.

John just hoped that it wouldn’t get too cold, and that nothing tried to kill him. Or eat him.

He stole a weary glance at his companion. This could be a long night.

 


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, Karkles.  
> (does anybody like this?? i promise it gets more exciting... kinda... not really)

The primary thought in Karkat’s head was _fuck_. The next few were the exact same thing.

Karkat dug his shoulders into the ground and tried to stretch. Key word being tried. There was a weight pinning him down and when he managed to look he saw that it a thick woodplant laying over his middle. He tried to wriggle out, but the woodplant shifted so that it was crushing him further and his right arm was trapped so he couldn’t even try to push it off.

He huffed angrily, this was his own doing. Why was he such a fuck up? Why couldn’t he do a _single_  thing right?

This was his _last chance_  too. All he had to do, was this _one_  simple job, and he’d managed to fuck that up too.

They’d been following this particular group of Humans for the last week at least. The fools didn’t even know that they were there, caught them by complete surprise- or at least they would have, if Karkat hadn’t _messed it up_.

Everything had been going fine. The members in their party with a bowkind Specibus were all in position, ready to take the heads of the Human group down.

Then Karkat had to be the _stupid fucking idiot_  that he always was and trip over a rock and alerted some of the Humans.

Past Karkat was a fuck up.

A full on war had ensued after that. Though it had been mostly one sided the Humans managed to take down at least four in the party. Karkat, trying to redeem himself, tried to take down a Human that was close to the edge of the cliff where they had cornered the Humans.

They both fell.

Karkat could see the Human a few pases to his left. It was unconscious (or possibly dead, Humans were ridiculously weak) and it’s leg was twisted awkwardly.

Karkat could only make himself feel better by telling himself that at least he’d managed to take a Human down with him, and that now at least he wouldn’t be in the way of his party and now they couldn’t accidentally find out his blood color.

And suddenly he was depressed all over again.

By joining a scavenging party he had managed to secure a fairly safe job. Any troll, even a low blood, could join one, because the cull rate was so high. They didn’t bother with blood checks, status depended on time spend on the job and skill. So as long as he didn’t let himself get hit, they’d never find out his color.

He chest clenched suddenly, and his body was racked with violent hacking. He felt a bit of his blood dribble down his chin, and knew that there must be internal bleeding involved.

Karkat worked on steadying his breathing, once he got it under control, he wiggled his feet. Right foot check, left foot check, he could still feel his right hand, and could feel the bark of the woodplant rubbing against the back of it. His left hand was free, so maybe if he could find something sharp enough, he could end his life on his own, and not just wait around to die of starvation or blood loss, or worse; have someone find him, see his blood color, and cull him for being such a fuck up.

He heard movement and a scream. Why couldn’t the Human just die quietly? Why could they _never_  just go down quietly?

Karkat sighed and closed his eyes, maybe he could at least get some rest. He was just so fucking _tired_.

The Human made a few more squeaking sounds, and screamed once or twice more, before it ceased making sounds of any sort.

Karkat rolled his head so that he could look over at it. The Human was laying against a tree now, leg in a much straighter position, it seemed to be knocked out again.

Not that Karkat really cared either way.

He started searching around himself for something that he could use to end his own miserable excuse for a life.

He had just located a rock that appeared to be _just_  sharp enough to do the deed when the Human started moaning again.

Fuck. Why were Humans so annoying? No wonder trolls were the dominant race.

Karkat spared the Human a glance and- _what the fuck was it doing_?

It had aligned a long, thin woodplant arm alongside it’s leg, and was now searching for another one.

_What the fuck_.

It actually managed to find another one, and placed it on the _other_  side of it’s leg.

What.

And now it was-

Now it was-

_What the actual fuck!?_

Why was it taking off it’s _shirt_!?

The Human _ripped_  it’s shirt into long strips (might it be said that the Human did it _weakly_  as Karkat wouldn't've had a problem ripping weak Human fabric).

Karkat watched as the Human as it tied the woodplant arms to it’s legs using the strips.

Well okay then. Humans were crazy.

If a troll broke a bone they would be culled straight away for their uselessness. The Human actually looked like he was trying to- to _fix_  it. What the _fuck_.

The Human yelled something and Karkat froze, turning to look at him. It seemed to be talking to itself, but when it turned to him, Karkat stopped breathing.

He’d been noticed. What was he supposed to do about this?

“Uh, hay.” Said the Human. Hay? Wasn’t that some sort of food for a hoof or moobeast? Karkat wasn’t very good at Human dialect (they had more than _one_  the idiots) but had taken his fair share of classes. It was required for joining a scavenging party member to be able to speak the region's language, in case of taking one as prisoner for information (trolls didn’t bargain), though that hardly ever happened. They usually just killed the Humans on site, the wretched creatures. Really they were doing them a favor. No one, no matter how stupid and useless, should have to live out their lives as barbarians. They really didn’t know any better. The Humans should _thank_  them, though usually they just ran or fought back. The poor idiots.

If Karkat didn’t hate Humans so much, he might even say that they were downright pitiable.

A few emotions that Karkat couldn’t place flickered on the Human’s face. It said ‘hay’ again, and Karkat was seriously starting to think that maybe the Human was just asking for food. It recognised him as the higher being, and now it wanted food.

Well it could just go fuck itself. Couldn’t it see that Katkat was a little _busy_  right now? Being _trapped_  under this _stupid_  woodplant whilst trying to cull himself?

“Uh, nice _something_  we- _R?_ _something_.” Karkat was pretty sure that ‘uh’ was just a nervous tick that the Human had, and not an actual word. “Uh, I- _M?_   _something_.” Karkat was certain that he’d never heard _that_  word before. The Human said it again and pointed to itself, Jjahn? Was that what it said? It was.... Jjahn? They had... names?

“Uh- _M something_  you?” It started talking again, was it asking about his name? “You- _R_ (your?)  _naam_ (name?)” It stared at him pointedly.

“You _something something_  you _something_  talk- _in? something_  me _something something_  talk _something something_  us? _something something_  me.” The Jjahnhuman smiled over at him.

What.

The.

Fuck.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop here we go.   
> And like, omg guys. Thank you for the sweet comments like those made my day. ^-^  
> This chapter feels short to me for whatever reason. Huh. Whatevs.  
> Also I just realized that this is my only John fic :0 like woah.

It _had_  been a cold night.

John had hardly slept at all- too busy shivering and jumping at every little crack and crunch and breath of wind. He was tired and sore and _lonely_ \- and he was pretty sure that his little death-companion had died sometime during the course of the night.

It’s head was turned so John couldn’t actually see it’s face, but it didn’t respond when John had called out to it, and hadn’t moved an inch in the last few hours.

Great.

Just. fucking. great.

It was just John’s luck. He probably annoyed the poor thing to death. But at least that was better than being _rapped_  to death by Dave which John _swears_  up and down nearly happened more than on one occasion.

_God_  he missed Dave.

John would give _anything_  to be able to listen to one of Dave’s terrible raps or even listen to him rant and give terrible comparisons to things.

He missed everyone.

He missed how Jade would wake him up in the mornings- different each time (water, sitting on him, holding his nose), missed seeing his dad (even if he overcompensated with how proud he was of John). He missed Rose and how it seemed like she was always in everybody’s business all the time (but really all she wanted to do was help and this was her way). He missed Jade’s grandfather (even though he’d been gone for a couple of months now) and the stories he would tell by the fire each night. (And how a bunch of them were the same ones because he often forgot what he’d already talked about.)

He missed watching Dave and his brother spar in the mornings (because they were really the only hope of the group’s survival), and how they’d offer to let him join (but he never did because he was awful at it).

John even missed Rose’s mom, because as much as she was, she was still the only motherly figure John could put a face to.

He missed his family. As messed up and dysfunctional as they were, they were _his_  and he _missed_  them.

But now they were gone and he was alone. And the only sentient being around for possible miles had died during the night.

No, scratch that. There was that wet choking sound again. It’d probably just been asleep.

“Morning!” John called, “Hope you slept better than I did; man it was so cold last night! But your skin is thicker, right? So maybe you’re not as affected?”

It didn’t answer.

The morning was mostly uneventful. John tried to talk to the other a few times but was brushed off and shushed each and every time.

The day got warmer as the sun made it’s trek through the sky. John was glad that at least he only had to worry about the nights being cold until someone came to find him.

If they came to find him.

If they were still alive.

God. Why was he so useless?

Couldn’t he help himself?

His train of thought was distracted by the other wriggling franticly. John watched in half-amusement as it pushed on the large branch with it’s free hand and squirmed like a worm.

John shifted his weight. His leg still hurt like nothing else but had dulled down to a numbing pain, and didn’t hurt near as much now that it was stable.

“Hey,” he called, “want some help with that?” If it was going to get free and kill him, he might as well get it over with sooner than later.

It froze (maybe it forgot he was here?) and turned it’s head slowly to face John.

It clicked and hissed at him a few times in calculated patterns that gave John the sense that it was saying ‘no I don’t need help’ and then insulted him a few times.

Well.

“Are you sure?” He asked, “I think I’ll be able to move now. And I could lean against it or something while you push? Come’on. Two’s better than one. We’ll get it over and done with in no time.”

It rolled it’s eyes and huffed, but other than that it turned back to the task at hand.

John took that as permission.

He shifted his body around to that he could push himself backwards towards the other. He brought his leg up and pushed the ground as he used his hands to scuffle much like a crab.

It was slow in progress but it was still progress.

When he was a few feet away from the other it froze again and turned to look at him. It’s eyes were wide and frantic and guarded. It watched his slow progression as he moved to lean against the branch, a mere foot away.

They were so close John could reach out and touch it.

He wouldn’t of course, but still.

He could see it’s eyes now. Pupils enlarged and blackblackblack surrounded by the yellows of it’s eyes. John idly wondered if it had irises at all. He could see the dried blood caked around it’s lips and chin, some fresh on the back of it’s free hand and and more on it’s clothing.

John’s heart clenched painfully and he smiled over at it.

It scowled in return but went back to wiggling and pushing, keeping one eye on him at all times.

Well, it was now or never.

John situated his free foot bent right against and set it on the ground.

He pushed.

At first nothing happened, but John could feel the slow, gentle shifting of the tree behind his back.

It shifted back suddenly- violently- and John almost toppled over.

The other screamed.

It was inhuman, but also not like any animal John had heard before. It was high and low at the same time, husky and screeching. Mostly though, mostly it was just filled with pain.

John could feel his heart breaking with sympathy.

“Hey, hey!” he said, trying to speak over the other’s scream and trying not to break down himself. (What _was_  this?) “What’s wrong? Is it on your legs? What’s happening?”

It continued to scream.

John panicked.

What should he do?

What should he do?

_What the fuck should he do?_

He leaned against the branch again, and pushed.

The screeching got even louder. John pushed even harder.

He could feel the bones in his broken leg shifting- grinding- against each other and bit his lip until he tasted blood to stop any of his own noises from leaving his throat.

John took in a deep breath and gave one last final _push_ , the other’s screamed intensified once more then ended all together, and the branch rolled a few feet away.

John finally let out his own hollow yell, and fell on his back, breathing hard.

When he turned his head to smile at his companion- to tell him ‘we did it'- he was met with tight hands around his throat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I like respond to comments? Because, I love them a lot (wink wink nudge nudge) and they always make my day, but should I reply to them?  
> Is this a thing I should be doing?

John gaped for a moment, flailing like a fish before he gathered his bearings.

He clawed at the hands- trying to dig the other’s fingers away, but sharper claws were finding their in the back of his neck. Pricking it and pressing hard.

He made weak, hoarse, breathy sounds as his air slowly built up in pressure. His attacker hissed at him and pressed it’s thumbs harder against his windpipe.

Little speckles of black started to flicker at the corner of his eyes, slowly closing in. Blood slowly trickled down his skin and over his attackers hands. John’s protests were getting weaker, his arms and hands limply holding on to the other’s sleeves.

His eyes connected with the other’s. Large animalistic eye with enlarged pupils stared into frantic blue ones.

“Pl-eh-sss-” John tried rasping, “St-ah---pleh-ss-”

It’s eyes narrowed at him, yellow almost disappearing, and the pressure increased.

John could hardly see anymore.

He was going to die.

He was going to die, here, now. At the hands of this- this _monster_.

He was going to die.

The resolution almost made him calm. As if knowing his end was near was giving him peace somehow.

At least maybe this way he’d get to see his friends again.

John quickly banished that thought because his friends- his _family_ \- were fine. They were all okay.

And he never see them again.

Maybe.

Probably.

He didn’t know.

His arms fell to his sides- hitting the ground. And it finally occurred to him that they were sitting. The other had pounced like a cat as soon as it had been freed.

Showed him right. He shouldn’t have tried to help it.

And... as he thought about it. John found that he’d still do it again. Over and over and over again even if he died each time.

Because that was who John was.

And he couldn’t just let someone die under a branch alone in the woods.

Even if that someone would try to kill him- _was_ trying to kill him.

Even if that someone was this creature in front of him.

He’d still save them. Still save _it_.

Even if it meant he would die in it’s stead.

His vision splotched, dark pixels clouding in from the sides. His heart was racing, his toes curling, his head was floating in a sea of dull pain.

And then- like they had never been there in the first place- the hands left him.

Air came rushing back to him and he coughed and hacked and was more than a little surprised when neither blood nor bile came up.

He glanced over at the other, holding a hand to his own neck. The other’s eyes were wide, inhuman still, frantic, confused.

Their eyes met.

Time seemed to slow to a stop.

John didn’t breath.

And then the other was scrambling away, tripping over itself- trying to get some distance between them.

When it was about ten meters away it finally stopped. Blinking rapidly and turning away from John, refusing to look at him.

John let himself fall back, staring up at the mottled sky.

It didn’t kill him.

The notion struck him as odd.

It didn’t kill him- and it could have.

What sense did that make?

He had never known one of them to show mercy. Not even to their own kind.

They were cruel, compassionless creatures who lived to kill and make others suffer.

This is all they were and nothing else.

Except, for some reason that John couldn’t comprehend, this one stopped.

It was frightened and frantic and confused.

It was almost- human.

John wanted to throttle himself for even thinking something so perverse- but it was true.

Two legs, two arms, body, head, eyes- it was all the same.

The only difference was the skin and protrusions (like horns or something) poking out the top of the other beings head.

It probably had family- friends maybe- people who cared about it.

It probably wasn’t an it.

It was probably just as scared and hurt as he was and it had attacked because it didn’t know what else to do.

Maybe violence was all it ever knew- maybe it simply didn’t know any better.

John’s chest ached (from the lack of breath or sorrow he didn’t quite know) and he glanced over at the grey one.

It’s hands were fisted in it’s hair and it seemed to be muttering to itself in a frantic manner.

“Hey,” John called. And it jerked, up and over, staring at him again with those large unnerving eyes. He tried to crack a smile. “Thanks for not killing me! I really appreciate it.” Laughing hurt.

It blink, letting it’s mouth fall open slightly. Then it’s eyes narrowed and it hissed at him, turning away and staring in the opposite direction.

John winced as he chuckled.

Maybe it wasn’t human, but it was pretty darn close and he was stuck with it for the time being.

And it still hadn't left.

Which was a little weird that it hadn’t abandoned him yet, but maybe it was more hurt that he had originally anticipated.

John groaned as he sat up. The other twitched but didn’t look at him.

He made his way back to his tree.

He should really stop calling it ‘it’. That was demeaning. How would he like it if someone was calling him an it!

But he didn’t really know if gender worked the same for them as it did for humans.

It also needed a name.

John leaned against the rough bark and closed his eyes.

He was so exhausted.

Steven? Jack?

Anne? Carrie?

It seemed more masculine than feminine. And John had _definitely_ seen the equivalent to females in it’s kind.

They were a lot more mean it seemed.

So male.

Carter? Jackson?

Would it be offended if he gave it a name when it already had one?

Wow.

Did it have a name?

Gods he was tired.

He cracked an eye open.

The other was glancing at him but whipped back around when he caught John looking.

John stifled a laugh and yawned.

Maybe he could get the concept of names out tomorrow. One near death experience with the other was enough for him for the day.

His eye slipped shut.

He offhandedly wondered if it was natural to be this tired or maybe if it was from the lack of oxygen to his brain.

Or maybe his body was trying to reroute energy to healing his leg.

It didn’t really matter though, as he drifted off.

Sleep was sleep was sleep.

And he needed loads of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop, Karkles.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

What was it trying to _do_?

The Human was slowly inching it’s way towards him.

He was trying to free himself and had clearly stated that he _didn’t fucking want it’s help_ (which was actually a word of the stupid dialect that he understood) and now it was _coming over here_.

When it got close enough it leaned on his branch and appeared to be breathing deeply.

It was _so fucking close_ all of Karkat’s primal urges of _dangerdangerdangerkillkillkill_ were in hyper drive. His blood pusher beat fast and ragged, giving him the extra energy to _atackkillprotect_ except he _couldn’t use it_.

The Human smiled ( _smiled_ at him.) He glared back at it.

After a moment of stalemate Karkat huffed and went back to trying to get free of this _stupid woodplant_.

What the fuck was it _doing_?

It’d braced itself more firmly against the woodplant and appeared to be pushing. Karkat froze as he watched it. Did it _honestly_ think that would work? If Karkat, a member of the superior race, couldn’t get the damned thing to budge, what hope did this puny Human have?

The Human appeared undeterred though. It’s pinched face and shaking limbs were a tell tale that it was giving it’s all. A little pathetic actually. Karkat might even call it-

The woodplant lurched suddenly and Karkat screamed.

The human said something over and over but Karkat couldn’t be bothered to pay attention- his body was on _fire_ fucking _dammit_.

The woodplant moved again and Karkat wanted to _die_. His vision was going splotchy and white and it was like being burned without any fire.

It moved yet again and Karkat readied himself for the worst (blood spill, limb loss, death) but then it was gone.

He was left with the aftermath of the searing pain and his body _ached_.

He blinked rapidly and turned to look at the Human who was breathing hard and heavy.

He had to move fast.

He was _free_.

_He could win_.

He struggled to his knees and lunged.

The other looked almost surprised (as if it didn’t suspect that this would happen) it gapped stupidly up at him.

He clenched his hands further and the weak creature beneath him squeaked and clawed uselessly at his hands.

“ _Shut up_.” He hissed, “ _Just shut the fuck up_.”

The Human grew heavier and limp. It’s mouth opening and closing weakly.

“Pl--ssss.” What was it even doing? “Staa--plsss.”

Was it- was it begging for it’s life?

Karkat grit his teeth and pressed harder on the other’s throat. He wasn’t weak. He would win. He would kill this useless creature and be done with it.

Because that’s what it was.

Useless.

Weak.

Pitiful.

It couldn’t even do anything for itself.

Karkat’s breath caught in his throat.

Humans were so pitiful and weak and he _hated_ them for it. Creatures like that shouldn’t be able live, it was just _sad_.

Fucking dammit.

It looked up at him, eyes sad and useless and pitiful and weak and- oh god.

He couldn’t.

He fucking couldn’t.

He pushed the Human away and tried to run but his legs _wouldn’t fucking cooperate_ and he just flailed like an idiot backwards a few yards.

The Human fell on it’s back, taking in deep breaths.

Then it looked at him.

His blood pusher stuttered and sped and his stomach dropped.

_What the fuck_.

He turned away.

No. _No_ dammit.

He wasn’t doing this.

This was _not happening again_.

Idiot _idiot_ fucking _idiot_ what the _fuck_ are you doing?

He did not feel _pity_ for this lowly creature. He didn’t feel _anything_ but platonic hatred.

No no _fuck_ no. This wasn’t happening.

He refused to let this happen.

“Hay!” The other said. (fuck _what_.) “Thank- _s? something_ not kill- _n?_ me! I _somthing something_ it!” He glanced at it.

The stupid thing grinned at him.

Karkat scoffed and turned away. He didn’t need this right now.

His leg throbbed.

Karkat scowled down at the useless limb. Was it- it was bleeding. Fuck.

His pants were torn and ripped, as was his leg.

The tree had probably been cutting into his leg but also blocking off the blood flow. Karkat wiggled his toes, they tingled. He scowled down at the ragged skin that was speckled with dirt and blood.

Karkat’s stomach lurched and he grit his teeth.

_Fuckin’ mutant_.

It was dried and crusted- making his pants stick to his wounds. Some of it was still oozing out the wretched color- fresh and bright and _terrible_.

He was going to be sick.

Except he _couldn’t_ because that would be _weak_ and then the Human would probably try to kill him in his sleep.

Even though it had had the perfect chance to take his life and hadn’t.

Karkat glanced at it from the corner of his eye (and ignored how his blood pusher sped). It was back against it’s tree- eyes closed. Why hadn’t it killed him? It’d had a clear shot. He couldn’t have done much (probably would have welcomed it) and wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.

_Why was he still alive_?

The thought rushed through him and left him cold and clammy. Did it have some sort of plan? Some ulterior motive?

Was it just plotting his demise? Screwing with his head before it went in for the kill? Was it _trying_ to make him crazy?

His hands clenched and shook. He wouldn’t let it get the upper hand.

It’s eyes cracked open and Karkat’s breath caught before he twisted back around violently.

It’d seen him.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

It knew. It had to know right?

The Human let out a strange breathy sound and- was it- it was fuckin’ _laughing_ at him.

His ears burned in shame.

It was the Human or him and he refused to let such a worthless creature best him.

Karkat curled in on himself- ignoring the sting from his lower extremities- and told his blood pusher to _c_ _alm the fuck down_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah john, better be carful of what you say to karkat, he might pick up on some bad habbits

The other (John tried to supply his mind with a better term but came up empty handed) still hadn't moved by the time John managed to pry his eyes open. It- _he_ \- was still turned away, hunched over on itself. ( _himself_ )

“Morning!” John called, and it flinched- but still didn’t look back at him.

_Him_ , John told himself again, _it’s a him stop calling it an it stupid_.

Stupid.

“So,” he tried, but there was no reaction, “I was kind of wondering what your name was?” Nothing. “Well I mean, you already know that my name’s John.” A pause. “ _John_.”

This was getting him nowhere.

“Aw, come’on man! You’ve already said something so I _know_ you can talk. Wouldn’t it be better if we could just have a nice, _normal_ conversation like two, sentient, civilized, uhm, people?” Did the term ‘people’ specify for humans? “Come _on_! Just like, one thing? Just say one thing. Like, your name preferably. Names are good. then I like have something to call you? And I’m not just calling you ‘it’ or ‘that guy’ or ‘that alien dude’ because _wow_ talk about insensitive, I mean-”

“Stap.”

John snapped his mouth shut. It- he was turned towards him. Glaring slightly, still huddled but somehow managing to look menacing.

“Taak- noh. _Noh_. Ee? Stap.”

John could barely fight the smile threatening to overtake his face because _yes_ he’d gotten it to say something. He’d basically _won_.

His companion did not look as amused as he felt.

“So are you going to tell me your name then?” It’s eyes narrowed, “I mean, now that we’re talking and all and I know you're totally not dead and everything- I mean that would kind of suck. after you didn’t even kill me and everything, which I am _really_ grateful and stuff so like, uh, thanks dude. Really appreciate it. Would _really_ suck if I was dead because then like we couldn’t talk and stuff and-”

“ _Jjah-nn_.” John jumped and turned slightly to stare at him. “Jjah-nn uumahn. Noh. Ah-noneen. Stuupah-d. Stap.”

Did it just call him stupid?

His speech seemed to be English- and John could make out some of the words even- but it was jumbled and slurred and didn’t seem to belong in it’s mouth ever. Like it was just the wrong shape for the puzzle and he wasn’t even a puzzle to begin with.

John blinked over at him. “Uuh, did you just call me ‘stupid’? Is that a thing that you just did?”

It rolled it’s eyes, “Ees. Stuupah-d. Taak stap.”

John’s mouth quivered, “Oh my god. You’re insulting me- you’re _totally insulting me oh my god_.” It huffed. “Sorry just- ha- you just called me stupid- _you_! Like, you’re violent and deadly and you _just called me stupid oh my god_.” He was _really_ trying not to laugh- he really was- it was just proving to be a more difficult task than he originally thought.

The other huffed and turned back around- clearly offended.

“Wait- no- fuck- I didn’t mean it like that!” John struggled for words, “Well, like, I mean, I _kind_ of meant it like that? But more like, haha funny. You know funny? Like, well not joke funny, uhm. More like, unreal funny? Like I didn’t expect it to ever happen funny? Weird funny? You know what I’m saying?”

It turned to glance at him, eyes small slits, “Weed funnee. _Iee_ weed funnee?”

John nodded. “Yeah! Yes, you are weird funny- but like, in a _good_ way.”

It stared at him with narrow eyes before squinting them even further and turning away.

Aw, dammit, no.

Maybe he _was_ stupid.

“Hey. I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. Fuck, man. Stop getting so angry- I’m just trying to talk to you!”

It spared him a glance, but at seeing he was still looking at it, whipped back around grumbling to itself.

And he was calling it an it again.

He.

Fuck.

Ugh.

“Look,” he said, “I just need your name. _Your name_ because like, I keep calling you an it? And like, now I feel bad about it. Because man, you kind of, uh, look like a man. Guy. Well, male. I’m assuming you're male. Because well like- are you? If you would just _give me your stupid name_ I could like leave you alone for a while or something. I just _need something to call you_ otherwise I’m going to start going crazy.”

Nothing.

Well, it might have curlled in on itself more.

Himself.

God fucking dammit.

“Come’on dude, please? Like, if you don’t give me one I’ll just get more annoying and like, I don’t know, start guessing at random or something.”

A twitch, maybe.

“Fuck, _fine_ be that way, uhm.” John racked his brain, “Justin. Mathew.” It-he turned and gave John a rather offended look before turning away again. “Um, okay? Maybe something more alien? Zooknand. Fernandez. Um, Veriavahoosh. Abrakadabra. Could you at least give me a hint?”

Its-his hands clenched against the ground and he blatantly ignored John.

“Uh, Coco, Janice, Edwardo, Mac, Jerry, Steu, Markus-?”

It finally turned to look at him. (he)

“Stap.” He said. “Jjah-nn, stap.”

John squared his shoulders (and ow that jostled his leg) “No man, I want your name. You could make this a whole lot easier on the both of us if you would just give me your _stooopaaad_ name.”

John was mocking him.

And he could tell.

He glared, narrow eyes shrinking down to slits. He made an odd sound in the back of his throat that was more like angry purring than anything else.

John rolled his eyes, “You don’t scare me dude. Face it- you’re basically all bark and no bite. Just give me your name and I’ll leave you alone, okay?”

The growling lowed till it was deeper but not necessarily quieter, then cut off abruptly. It-he sighed. Running a hand down his face. “Stuupah-d,” he muttered, but then looked up to stare John in the eyes. “Khuur’kht.”

John blinked.

It was mostly a guttural sound, like an alien form of German or something (that weird angry language that Jade’s grandpa spoke) all throat and harsh sounds that made John want to wince.

“Uh, like, is it Curchet, or more like Chuuurket?”

Cuurket(?) groaned, “Noh. _Khuuuur_ ’kht.”

John scrunched up his face. “Kooorket.”

“ _Khuuuuuuuur_.”

“Ker.”

“Khuuur.”

“Koor?”

“Aaagh, noh! Stuupah-d! _Khuur’kht_.”

“Kaaarket?”

Kaaarket made a few angry sounds again.

“Karkat?” Can I just call you that? With, like, a’s and stuff? A’s are pretty easy.”

Karkat grumbled a bit more. “Stuupah-d uumahn. Ees.”

“Yes? Is that a yes I hear Karkat?” John could hear the smugness in his voice.

“Ees. Stuupah-d. Stap taak now.”

“Yeah, okay _Karkat_ , I’ll stop talking.” Karkat glared and John smiled.

The aliens name was Karkat.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. I do not have as many chapters queued as I used to. I should start writing this again. Ugh. So many fanfictions, so little work effort.
> 
> Do you ever put ___ in place of words because you can't think of the word and then you go to post something and it's like, oh hey. I didn't fill in that word. Yeah. Aren't you glad I catch these things?  
> (but if I don't tell me)

With a name to go with the angry face, it was a lot easier to attach ‘person’ to the alien. It wasn’t a human, sure, but it was still a _person_ and John felt a lot better now that he wasn’t calling Karkat ‘it’ all the time.

Like now he had a friend for the end of the world.

Or at least the end of his world, he supposed.

John grimaced. He really shouldn’t be this negative- he was actually doing pretty well for himself.

His leg was set and he’d been able to shift it to a decent position so he was hoping it’d heal alright.

There was an angry alien, sure, but it wasn’t like it was actively trying to kill him which was pretty nice.

Though, if ‘death by glaring’ was a thing he’d be long dead.

But he was in a pretty good position. Stable enough with the wide tree and his splint for his leg he could shift around a bit when his but got kind of numb- though it didn’t really help.

Also he didn’t really have a shirt anymore which kind of sucked when it rained.

It was well on it’s way to being the warm season, so he didn’t actually have to worry about freezing to death, but the scatters showers were still pretty frequent and were pretty freaking _cold_ sometimes against his skin.

It was worse at night.

Though rain meant he could roll back his head and open his mouth and try and catch what the tree let fall through.

So maybe he won’t die of dehydration.

John figures that he’s been here approximately five days.

The first day which he is assuming he was mostly unconscious for, the second day where he fixed his leg, the day where he’d moved the tree branch off of  Karkat, the day where Karkat _finally_ fessed up his name, and today.

A glance at Karkat told him that the other still had yet to move.

It’d been pretty quiet all day (and most of yesterday after their little talk) and John was freaking _board_.

He kept trying to talk to his death companion (who probably had a better chance at surviving then he did) but Karkat would turn and glare whenever he so much as though about opening up his mouth.

It was actually kind of freaky.

His stomach growled.

He swore.

Karkat glared at him.

“Sorry man, I’ll tell the dragon to shut up.” Karkat rolled his eyes but turned back to doing whatever the heck he’d been doing for the past two days.

As far as John could tell he’d mostly just been sitting there and hadn’t even moved once, just kind of squatting and shuffling around in the dirt and mud. He hadn’t even bothered to move against a tree.

Just sat there.

And sulked.

Or, at least John _thought_ he was sulking.

His abdomen made another sound of protest and he glared down at it. “Yeah, I know you're hungry, but theres not much I can do, is there? So just shut up okay?”

Karkat kind of glanced at him but just went back to drawing in the dirt.

How long could you live without food again? John wasn’t too sure. He knew that Jade had tried to tell him once but he hadn’t paid that much attention.

She’d also tried to teach him what to do if he ever got separated from the group.

Like how to check for fresh water, and how to tell if something was probably poisonous and what was editable in dire situations.

Like now.

John cursed himself.

It’d be just like him to blow off the actual _important_ things about life just because they seemed boring or unlikely.

Fuck.

He was going to start crying again.

Maybe he was the only stupid one it the group (something that sounded an awful lot like the truth to him) and maybe everyone else got away.

Maybe they were looking for him and it would be pretty logical that he’d fallen down the cliff and it’d just be a few more days now for them to find a safe route and they’d come and they’d get him and they’d all laugh about it and Bro would smack the back of his head and Dave would pretend not to care and his dad would tell him how _so very proud_ of him he was because he hadn’t, like, died and stuff and-

fuck.

He sniffled.

Karkat turned to growl at him but just sort of froze. Half turned, with his eyes wide. His eyes snapped to John’s and he whipped back around.

John sniffed again.

What would even _happen_ to Karkat if his family did come?

Would they kill him?

... Would he stop them?

His hands felt clammy and his throat tightened.

Fuck.

_Would_ he stop them?

They weren't exactly _friends_ but he knew the guy’s _name_

for crying out loud.

And he was still alive and Karkat still hadn’t killed him yet so it’d be like paying a debt or something.

Right?

Could he even explain to them what was going on?

What was even going on?

His eyes drifted over to the hunched form again.

What if it were Karkat’s group to find them?

Would he do the same? (Would John even do it?)

Would he keep them from killing John or would he just let it happen?

John felt sick.

He wiped at his nose and rubbed violently at his eyes.

He supposed, if it came down to it, he would probably try and stop either Dave or Bro from putting a sword through the grey boy’s chest.

Actually Jade could be pretty scary if she wanted to be.

He let out a loud sound of exasperation, causing Karkat to turn around quickly and give him a wide eyed look.

John beamed.

“Hey,” he called, and Karkat sort of twitched back (dude sure was jumpy huh?) “just so you know, if my family like finds us and stuff, I’ll totally try and keep them from killing you and stuff.” Karkat blinked and then squinted at him. “Like, I know you probably don’t understand me or whatever, but I think that would be the right thing to do. Also you're pretty funny and we’re even on first name basis and I can’t just let my family kill my first name basis buddy now can I?”

Karkat’s mouth sort of twitched. It opened a few times and he chewed on his lip a bit. Eventually he managed out a “Waat?” Furrowing his eyebrows.

“If my family comes I won’t let them kill you. Karkat no die. Yeah? That sound good?”

Karkat blinked.

His skin promptly switched to a darker shade, a more flushed shade of the normal grey.

He turned around, wrapping his arms around himself.

John was pretty sure he was muttering “stupid” over and over in his strange Alien-English.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frickity frack batman, I guess updating is a thing I should do, huh?
> 
> This chapter feels short to me.
> 
> Also I should stop writing new ideas, because then I get nowhere in life. But sometimes they're just /so interesting/ and fun to write.

It’d gotten a name out of him.

The stupid Jjahnhuman that was.

It seemed to think that they were friends or something equally pathetic and wouldn’t leave him alone.

Karkat had tried to ignore it- he really had- but the Jjahnhuman proved to be more annoying and stupid then he had originally thought.

He’d given in because (as far as he understood) the human had promised to _stop talking_ if he got a name, so Karkat had given in.

And then the stupid Jjahnhuman had gone and butchered his name beyond repair. Saying something like ‘Kaahrrcaaht’ when it was obviously more subtle and made use of short vowels.

The this proved that humans were without help or hope of improvement.

Useless creatures.

At least it’d stayed true to it’s promise for about a day. But then it appeared to become bored or something again and started babbling again. It hadn’t been much though, and it appeared as though the human was talking to itself, scolding it’s stomach.

Weird.

It glanced up at him and Karkat whipped back around. His legs were numb but like hell he’d let the human know that. He shifted and prodded at the ground with a stick he’d found nearby. Maybe he could dig himself a grave. It’d take long enough that he’d be pretty close to death by the time he was done. Maybe the human would even push some dirt back on top of him. If he even outlived the useless thing. Honestly the poor thing wasn’t looking too hot. Bum leg, paired with the fact that it hadn't eaten anything in quite some time.

Karkat wondered offhandedly weather he or the Jjahnhuman could last longer without food.

The Jjahnhuman made a noise and Karkat growled, turning to tell him to just _shut the fuck up_ but when he saw it he froze.

Was it- was it _crying_?

It glanced up at him and he turned back around quickly. 

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

His body shook and his eyes blinked rapidly. No.

_No_.

He wasn’t doing this.

Karkat clenched his fists. He refused to let this happen. This was not happening. This wasn’t even a thing.

The human sniffed and Karkat wanted to gouge his eyes out.

Fuck.

He couldn’t do this.

He wanted to go over there and pap the fuck out of it’s stupid face until it couldn’t even _think_ anymore. Couldn’t even do anything but smile and everything would be okay and then they’d-

Fuck!

Fuck no _stop that idiot_.

That’s not happening.

He was _not letting that happen_.

The Jjahnhuman wouldn’t even understand. Would probably think Karkat was trying to kill it, the stupid thing. ( _useless, poor, helpless, pitiful_ )

Even if it _did_ understand who's to say it would even _want_ that. It’d probably be disgusted that Karkat even _tried_.

Even if he was a highblood and not some mutant _freak_. Humans and trolls just _don’t get along_.

Humans hide and run and trolls hunt and attack.

It’s not like he could even bring him to meet the ‘family’.

His lusus was back on Alternia and Sollux probably thought he was dead.

Fuck.

Sollux probably thought he was dead.

Fuck, no.

This wasn’t the time for that.

He had to think straight. He had to-

Had to what?

He was as good as dead anyway. It wasn’t like he was getting out of this.

Maybe he could wait till he healed up just enough, try to wash the blood out from his clothes and try to make his way back.

_But then what_?

Would his party even take him back or would he have to find different work?

Where else could he work that they didn’t bother taking blood tests because it _didn’t fucking matter_?

Karkat took a deep breath and held it for a while.

He had to calm down.

Had to get his head on straight and think things through.

First of all, if he even got well enough to try and make his way back, what would he do with the Jjahnhuman? Would he try to take it with him? Would he put it out of it’s misery?

Something in the back of Karkat’s mind informed him that he wouldn’t be able to kill it now if he tried. Karkat kindly told his head to fuck off.

Fuck.

He was in deep, wasn’t he?

The Jjahnhuman let out an odd, throaty sound. Karkat turned to glance at it.

The human grinned at him. “Hay.” it said, and Karkat was starting to think that it was actually some sort of primitive greeting. It proceeded to talk at him, gesturing wildly with it’s arms, Karkat only catching some of the words with the meaning completely surpassing him.

He chewed on his mouth a bit, contemplating the consequences before saying “What?”

It continued to smile. “ _f?_ my _something_ I _something_ them kill you.”

What.

Was that some sort of death threat?

The human continued though, elaborating that “Karkat no die. Eah? That _something_ good?”

Karkat blinked and promptly felt himself flush.

_What_?

Did- did it even _know_ what it was saying!?

Fuck.

Karkat turned and curled in on himself. “Stupid,” he whispered, “stupid, stupid, stupid.”

He couldn’t do this.

He _couldn’t_.

He refused to look back at the human even after it’d called his name a few times. Just managing out a pathetic growl and hugging himself tighter.

Fuck, he was pathetic. He couldn’t even go through life without falling pale for someone pathetic fast and _hard_. 

Why did it have to be a _human_ though?

He knew plenty of stupid, useless people (that all made his blood pusher throb at the thought of how hapless they were) but this was _worse_ somehow.

Most likely because it was for a stupid fucking _human_. He was deplorable. If he didn’t die because of his blood color he would die because of this.

It was disgraceful. Laughable even.

Karkat Vantas was pale for a _human_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have the next chapter done but I feel bad because it's almost been a month. So here.

Karkat was gone when John woke up the next day.

He’d turned to tell the other ‘good morning’ but the sulking lump simply hadn’t been there.

John felt his stomach twist uncomfortably- he was alone now. Not even a violent alien (who probably wanted to kill him) to talk to.

More ‘at’ than anything though.

It wasn’t as though there were anything keeping the other here. He probably needed a days rest after being squashed by that tree branch and then he’d be good to go. What reason would he have to stay? John was probably super annoying and it probably felt the sooner it could get away the better.

His heart sunk.

Why was he even _sad_? He should be glad the alien was away. Now it’s friends wouldn’t come looking for it and find him. (though it could lead them to John)

He’d started calling it an ‘it’ again.

Fuck.

Why did it even matter. It wasn’t like Karkat was ever going to come back. The only one of those things that hadn’t killed him on sight- had actually let him live and _talked_ to him; and it was gone.

John felt his eyes well up and he couldn’t quite decide if he was crying because he was completely alone now (going to die alone fuck) or if he was sad because Karkat himself had been the one to leave.

John had actually felt as though they were getting along in some manner. They weren't actively trying to kill each other and had even had a few civilized conversations. (mostly John sided though)

But the aliens could _talk_ , they knew _English_. They weren't just mindless killing machines. It wasn’t as though John thought they were stupid or anything (he knew they were deadly brilliant) he just hadn’t thought about it before. Too busy hating them and trying not to be killed by them to care about what their names might be.

He wondered if Karkat had a last name.

If they even _did_ last names.

And who his friends were if he had any. And who his family was (because he had to of come from _something_ right?) and if they were worried.

He wondered if his only family was worried about him.

If they were looking for him or if they had just accepted him as dead.

Or if they even cared.

Maybe they were glad he was gone. Glad his stupid nuisance ass was out of the way.

His chest shook as he tried to breath properly.

Fuck.

He was going to die out here alone, wasn’t he? With a _stupid_ broken leg that forbid any movement. If he could last the six to eight weeks that it took his leg to heal maybe he could try to go and look for them.

For _someone_.

But could he even last that long without food? And what if it took longer than that? What if it took over three months to heal and by the time it actually did he’d be long dead.

Even if he managed to move around he’d be weak. He was already having a hard time dealing with the no food situation. If he wasn’t so terribly _bored_ maybe he could fight it off, but with no one to actually have stimulating conversation with and no means of moving around the gnawing at his insides was always at the front of his mind.

Fuck.

He was hungry.

He was tired and sore and wanted a decent meal and a warm fire because fuck if he wasn’t cold.

Why was he so goddamn _stupid_?

John reached up and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, pushing his cracked glasses (fuck, how long had they been cracked?) up and out of the way.

He took a deep breath.

And then another one.

And another one.

He choked and tried to even out his breathing.

In, out.

In, out.

He was fine.

_he was all alone_

It was going to be okay.

_he was going to die out here_

He would make it through this.

_no he wouldn’t he was going to starve or die from dehydration_

Fuck.

His nails were blunt but that didn't stop him from trying to gouge into the skin of his forehead.

“Fuck”, he sobbed, “Fuck fuck _fuck_.” He took a few more staggering breaths. Calm down calm down _calm down_.

It wouldn’t do him any good to freak out.

His chest hurt and he couldn’t seem to stop crying. No wonder Karkat left, he was pathetic.

There was a crack to the left of him and John froze.

Fuck

Fucking dammit.

He’d been so distracted with his own self pity that something had snuck up on him and now it was probably going to kill him, fuck.

John slowly lowered his hands from his face and let his eye wandered towards the noise, his breath still hitching.

It was Karkat.

John’s breath caught in his throat.

His eyes were wide, dilated, as he stared back at John and his arms were full of assorted branches and leaves.

“Karkat?” John tried, but his voice was raw and scratchy so it sounded more like ‘Karr’at’.

Karkat seemed to be holding his breath as well. He let out a long, slow breath of air, then slowly, so slowly, walked forward a few steps and set is bundle down gently. (slowly)

John blinked owlishly up at him.

The other held up his hands (were they shaking?) then slowly (why slowly?) rustled through his heap and retrieved a wad of leaves.

He held up his free hand again and slowly crept towards John, slightly hunched over with eyes still wide as the full moon.

When he was about a pace away he stopped, looking John in the eyes, lifted his head slightly, and crouched down.

And held out the arm that was holding the leaves.

John stared at him.

“Uh, what?” He sniffed and rubbed at his face.

Karkat’s lips pursed and he waved the leaves up and down slightly. “Tae’ka.”

“You, um, want me to take it?” Karkat nodded frantically, seemed to think better, then nodded a bit slower.

This was getting a little weird.

John’s hand reached forward, hesitant, but with Karkat’s nod took the package.

Their fingers brushed and Karkat whipped his hand back.

They stared at each other again before the other held up his hands again and slowly moved back to his pile, fiddling with the sticks.

John took the packet of leaves and turned it over a few times in his hands; it was folded over on itself in a weird sort of expert way. He pulled at a few of the leaves, opening it up.

John felt like crying again.

It was food.

Maybe not like some warm steak smothered in sea salt but it was _food_ and it was _edible_.

Or at least he assumed it was (he really should have listened to Jade more) it was a handful of berries.

Berries that Karkat had picked and _given_ to him.

“Hey,” John turned to Karkat, sending him a smile. Karkat glanced up at him, “Thanks. Really, thank you.”

Karkat’s mouth moved a few time not unlike a fish out of water before he nodded, looked back down at his sticks and leaves, and started to mutter to himself again.

John’s attention went back to the food. (food!) He tried one.

It was bitter, but sweet. With a seed he had to spit out but it tasted pretty damn good to him.

Maybe he’d be okay after all.

It was weird that Karkat hadn’t run off on him, but he was grateful for it and wasn’t about to ask why and look a gift horse in the mouth.

Maybe it’d be okay.

Maybe he’d make it through this after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay pointless chapter where nothing really happens. Except they kind of do? Ugh, I just want to get out of this stupid forest.

After that Karkat starts to act a little weird. He makes a big show of everything he does and does it all very slowly and deliberately. He got a fire going that night (and every night consecutive which John thought was pretty neat because he didn’t know they did fires) but took a long time in doing so the first time because he had to show John everything he was doing. (Like he had to make sure John knew it wasn’t a threat.)

Whenever he approaches John (to give him food or water usually) he keeps his palms facing upward and his head tilted back. It’s strange to say the least. He’s acting as though he doesn’t want to scare John (and the weird thing is that John isn’t actually afraid of him more like disturbingly comfortable) and is going through every possible measure and motion to prove that he doesn’t want to hurt him.

It’s actually kind of sweet.

In a slightly annoying foreign sort of way.

Right now Karkat is poking at the fire with a decently long stick, stirring the embers and trying to get the new wood to catch fire. John sits against his tree (feeling rather useless) and rolling a few berries around in his hand.

As grateful as he is for any source of food John is getting kind of sick of eating berries. They’ve been eating them straight for about a week now and the bark at his back is looking more and more appetizing every hour.

Karkat explained (through many hand motions and choppy words and misunderstandings) that he was trying to get more.

More _what_ John didn’t really know.

He’d asked ‘more berries?’ and gestured down to the fruit but Karkat has shaken his head and just said ‘ _moar_ ’ again and made large swooping motions with his hands.

He was hoping more meant a larger variety of food (not that he was complaining!) but he honestly didn’t even know if it pertained to food at all.

“Karkat,” he whined, “I’m _bored_.”

Karkat visibly jumped and froze, slowly tilting his head to look up at John with wide eyes.

He swallowed, and licked at his lips. “Uhm,” he managed, “wut?”

John had actually gotten to the point where, if he said something, Karkat would usually at least attempt to respond. It was a little difficult though because Karkat didn’t know over half of what he was saying.

John smiled, “hi.”

Karkat’s face turned a muddled, blotchy maroon color. He stood up abruptly and stammered out “Fire, moar. Uhm, bye.” He hurried out of the clearing and out of sight.

John wasn’t sure if flushing of the face meant the same thing that it did for humans, but it was still pretty amusing (and cute) to watch Karkat get flustered and leave.

He popped another berry in his mouth and chewed on the seed.

It’s almost dark by the time Karkat comes stumbling back into the clearing (John was actually starting to get worried). He hears the crunch of leaves and dried branches before he sees him, and calls out “Hey! Where you been buddy? Did you bring water at least?”

When Karkat emerges into sight it is not with water.

It’s with a rabbit.

John stills, staring at the limp hare in the other boy’s grasp.

His eyes snap to Karkat’s face and his breath catches in his throat.

Karkat is honest to god _smiling_.

It’s all pointy teeth and black lips and bright, dilated eyes but it’s _smiling_.

And it’s one of the best things John has seen all year.

“No bar-ies.” He says, and John finally snapped out of his reverie to beam up at him.

“No berries.” He lets out a whoop. “Oh my _god_ Karkat, _no berries_! You’re the _best, oh my god_.”

Karkat flushes again but it’s more the good kind and he’s still smiling.

He gets the fire going again and manages to skin the rabbit (with his _fingernails_ it’s actually kind of creepy and John has to look away) and get it cooking.

Actually cooking.

Actual _meat_.

Actual _cooked warm meat_.

Karkat is kind of his favorite person ever.

When they finally sit down to eat (Karkat that is, but he sits _next_ to John which elates him more than it should) it’s dark and cooling down, but the fire is crackling and warm against John’s face and he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

The meat is the best he’s ever tasted, though he thinks that might be because he’d been deprived of it for so long and anything other than bitter berries tastes amazing.

Karkat’s sitting close, not touching close, but close enough that if John shifted _just right_ their arms could be touching.

He doesn’t, but he kind of wants to. Karkat’s jumpy though, and he’s never even sat this close before and John doesn’t want to freak him out with his stupid clingy ‘need-for-human-contact’.

Even though Karkat isn’t a human.

John falters and there’s that nagging feeling of _this isn’t right he shouldn’t be this comfortable_ but then Karkat speaks up.

Actually speaks up on his own without being prompted.

“Jjah-nn.”

John glances over at him. “Yeah, Karkat? What’s up?”

Karkat stares at him for a moment, briefly looks up, then shakes his head.

He motions to the food in his hand. “Wut hiss.”

“ _This_ ,” John corrects, “What _this_. _Thhh_.”

Karkat rolls his eyes. “Stuupah-d. Wut _thhh_ -iss.”

John smiles. “Meat,” he says, “This is meat. Well, it’s a rabbit- uh, _was_ a rabbit, but I mean you kind of killed it. Not that it stops being a rabbit after it’s dead or anything, but now it’s a _dead_ rabbit and I mean- meat.” Karkat’s giving him a sort of ‘shut-up-and-get-to-the-point’ look. “It’s meat.”

“Meeet.” He seems to roll the sound around on his tongue. “Mm. Ee. Meat.”

“Yeah! You got it! Meat.”

Karkat is side glancing him now, and biting at his cheek (John really wishes he wouldn’t do that his teeth are like razors _ow_ ) “ _Moar_ meat?”

John grins.

“Yeah.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ACTUALLY WROTE LIKE WOAH LOOK AT THAT
> 
> so I could give you excuse after excuse (like 'I moved' or 'I graduated' or 'finials' or 'anime con and cosplay man' or even 'I got a job and it sucks my life force' all of which are true) but in all actuality I'm just lazy so yeah.
> 
> The time difference from the beginning of the chapter to the end is about three months.

After Karkat started bringing more protein to their shallow diet (even if it was only now and then because fuck those things were fast) the Jjahnhuman (who was trying to convince Karkat to just drop the human bit) was starting to look considerably better. It might have had something to do with the fact that he wasn’t starving anymore, but Karkat was really hoping that he was actually starting to get better.

But then there was the matter of his leg.

It was held together crudely with two large sticks and pieces of the human’s shirt. (The) Jjahn (human) was convinced that it was broken(? ‘not together’ he’d said) but Karkat wasn’t entirely convinced.

He’d seen breaks before (and then consequential cullings) but he wasn’t quite sure that was what this was.

It seemed more that the human’s leg was just... not in the right place. That it was dislodged either at the knee joint or the hip joint (or both which might be more likely with the impact of the fall but Karkat was really hoping it was either one or the other) and would have to be put back if they wanted any chance at it healing properly.

Karkat himself had dealt with his fair share of dislocations. Both from himself and Gamzee (who would show up covered in blood and a loose hanging arm) and even Sollux once. He knew, approximately, how they worked and how they went back into their slot.

What he wasn’t sure of was if human extremities worked the same that troll extremities did.

If he popped Jjahn’s leg back into place would he damage the human? They were known for being considerably weaker and more prone to damage than trolls.

Of course, back home that sort of thing wasn’t recommended to fix yourself either but like hell Karkat was stepping foot in a Healing House. (That also coincidentally only served green bloods or higher, yellow if you’re lucky and live more in the slums.)

So he’d had a bit of practice working with them, and knew the sooner you get it fixed the better.

He just didn’t know how he could portray to Jjahn what his intentions actually were and not scare the human half to death.

They may be coexisting for the time, but their species were natural born enemies (trolls were natural born enemies of everything) and any false sense of trust Jjahn was feeling could end at any moment if Karkat did the wrong thing.

He had to go about this as carefully as he could.

“Jjahn,” he said in the middle of another of the human’s monologues (something about his friend? and things being inedible? and a big furry _something_  that Karkat would apparently _like a lot_ ) that he’d probably was saying for the tenth time, but kept repeating himself in hopes that Karkat would understand better the second time (he never did).

Jjahn stops talking and looks over at him, “Eah, Karkat?” The human’s pronunciation of his name is still awful and the sound still grates his ears but hearing him actually _say_  Karkat’s name gave the troll stupid tiny flapinsects inside of his stomach.

Karkat fiddled with his hands for a moment, then gestured to Jjahn’s leg, “leg,” he said, “need fix.”

“Fixed,” said Jjahn, “ _ed_ , you add that when( _time meaning?_ ) _something_ , ‘needs fixed’. Eah? You( _r_ ) leg needs fixed.”

Karkat was pretty sure that the ‘r’ after the ‘you’ word (which meant someone other than your specific person, in this case Karkat) had multiple meanings that Karkat had yet to figure out. He was pretty sure that at least one version gave the opposite person possession of the object. English was stupid.

Karkat was also pretty sure that Jjahn was avoiding this conversation.

“Jjahn,” he said again, “You _r_  leg need _s_  fix-id.”

Jjahn beams over at him, “there( _place?_ ) you go Karkat!” even though Karkat wasn’t going anywhere, “I knew you could get it! Man(, you are gett( _ing_ ) good at this!”

Karkat wasn’t stupid. He was a pretty fast learner and being immediately exposed to the language he picked things up pretty fast. It was simpler than his native dialect and the only thing that he really had issues with were the phonetics. It was just so _soft_  and he found it uncomfortable to force his mouth to form the words.

It was also boring. So simple with a rudimentary grammar system that kept changing the rules as if to say ‘fuck you, you think you get this? well guess what! there’s this rule that only applies to this _one thing_  that will screw you over for the rest of your meaningless existence, haha’.

He was pretty sure he was waning black for the English language which was just stupid because it wasn’t even an inanimate object just an _idea_ , just a concept of a series of sounds.

(Of course he was also pale for a human so he should really just stop talking.)

Karkat stared Jjahn down.

Jjahn shifted, uncomfortable, and tried not to make eye contact. It was difficult to do when they were the only ones in the area surrounded by the same scenery for the past week or so.

“You _r_  leg _bad_. Wrong. Need fix-id.” Then human shifted again and made a face.

“Well, yeah. But I mean, it’s not like there’s any( _?_ )thing( _object?_ ) we can really do about it right? Haha, I was _something_  that dad( _? person?_ ) would be able to fix me up. When they find us you know. Or uh, if. Haha.”

He thinks someone will find them down here?

Even Karkat knew that was a long stretch for trolls, but for a pack of humans? They would have been trying to remove themselves from the fight (humans can defend from trolls pretty well but much more than that is a pretty pathetic plight) so would probably be long gone. They’d come from up pretty high and Karkat couldn’t find another way up that didn’t involving climbing (that was obviously out because of Jjahn’s leg) so anyone finding them would be half merical and half sheer dumb luck.

And _us_?

As in, together?

If Jjhan didn’t think his pack wouldn’t try and kill Karkat on sight (and probably succeed due to basic math) then he had another thing coming.

Karkat still wasn’t sure how they’d managed this truce and why he didn’t just kill the human when he’d had the chance but here they were.

He knew for a fact that if it was a group of trolls they’d probably both be culled on the spot, Jjahn because he was human and Karkat because he hadn’t killed the human in the first place.

They had to get out of this eventually though, summer wouldn’t last forever. But Karkat didn’t know how well he’d be able to leave the human (for dead? Or maybe find his family and then die himself) without (not crying trolls don’t cry) pining like some heroin from a romcom after her lost Moirail.

(And they weren’t even fucking Moirails Jjahn didn’t even know what that was and would never (could never) feel the same it was stupid Karkat was stupid. Fuck.)

“Jjahn.” Said Karkat, and the human looked up (and then promptly looked back down and started fiddling with his hands) “I help. I fix.”

Jjahn made a face. “That’s, uh, nice and all Karkat,” god he butchered his name so bad, “but I( _’m? am?_ ) good.”

“Jjahn,” Karkat said again, even going so far as to reach over and place a few of his finger pads on the boy’s arm (and then promptly removing them) “I help you. You _r_  leg. Now.”

Jjahn’s mouth opened and closed again and again, he stared at the spot on his arm that Karkat had touched, “Oh,” he managed, “uh, kay.”

Karkat nodded. “Good.”

He stood up.

“Woah!,” said Jjahn, and looked like he wanted to scramble back but had realized that there was a tree behind him, “what, like, _now_  now?”

“Now.” Karkat nodded again and moved to Jjahn’s leg, reaching for a strip of the knotted up shirt that held the makeshift splint together.

“Woah, hay hay hay! _something_  down there _bucco_ (??) we can just do this later, eah? Like, _s_ _omething something_  let’s just- Karkat- hay hay- no stop that, just-” he was leaning forward now, wincing at how it made his leg stretch. He tried to bat Karkat’s hands away but Karkat just grabbed them.

He tried to ignore the near uncomfortable warmth that was spreading throughout his chest. “Jjahn.” he said, and the boy glanced up at him (why was he so nervous?) “Stap.”

Their eyes held contact for longer than comfortable but Karkat didn’t want to be the first to look away.

Eventually Jjahn nodded and Karkat released both his hands and his eyes and went back to untying the knots.

He moved the branches away glanced up to look Jjahn in the eyes. He moved- slowly- and placed his hands on the boy’s leg.

Eventually Jjahn took a deep breath and nodded, his brow furrowing.

Karkat nodded back and looked down at his work. He felt around the hip and knee joints and tried to ignore the way that Jjahn tensed. The hip actually felt okay but there was this nasty swelling going on around the knee joint area. Karkat sort of wished that he could take off the others pants so that he could see the damage first hand (not to mention it would be easier to work with) but felt that would probably not be acceptable.

He’d have to be quick and precise. It would hurt like hell and he wasn’t sure how Jjahn would react to it.

He braced himself, taking hold of the leg and then glancing up at Jjahn.

He waited for Jjahn to nod again before moving.

Jjahn screamed.

It reminded him of that time not too long ago when Jjahn had helped him and he had tried to take the other’s life immediately after.

He couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t think of how he’d spared the other’s life (how he was so so glad about that now no matter how terrible he felt about it) had to focus.

At least it was straight now but it wasn’t going back into place- why wasn’t it going back into place? Fuck- fuck!

What if he’d been wrong? Was it actually- shit. Was it actually broken?

Fuck shit.

Jjahn’s body was tense and rigid and his hands were trying to push Karkat away.

The bone was probably just grinding calm down, just push. Just like that stupid wriggler game- just put the pieces together.

He could do this- he just needed- just a little bit further, it had to be close right? Fuck- what if he was moving it the wrong way, what if he was-

He could feel it slide into place. Could almost hear the ‘click’ of something fitting together. Could hear Jjahn shout louder and hit at his shoulder, grab at his shoulder. Could hear himself saying ‘shoosh, shoosh,’ over and over. Could see water make treaks down Jjahns face- could see his hand reaching forward because it physically hurt to see Jjahn crying and oh fuck he was in deep.

Could see Jjahn blink away the confusion of pain. Could see his eyes dilate and dart to his hand.

His hand with it’s sharp nails (claws fuck) for tearing and ripping (for hurting) that probably had dried blood under them.

His hand with it’s alien color.

He ripped his arm away from Jjahn (ripped away from where Jjahn had a handful of his shirt) and fell back.

They blinked at each.

Karkat’s arm held awkwardly back and Jjahn’s still hovering awkwardly from where Karkat’s shoulder used to be.

Jjahn opened his mouth and Karkat shot up.

“Food,” the word tumbled out of his mouth and he turned around and stumbled away from the clearing.

Stupid stupid.

Fuck.

They weren't Moirails and they would never be.

He had to clear his head, had to get a grip on reality.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') don't look at me

The place where John’s knee connected to his lower leg _ached_.

Actually, the whole leg hurt.

Even when he wasn’t moving it it throbbed angrily at him, which he still wasn’t sure was a good thing. At least he could tell something was wrong with it now. Not to mention that it actually looked like a normal leg now.

(except that his knee was crazy big)

Still, he should really thank Karkat.

... If Karkat was here.

Karkat hadn’t been there for the past few hours. A day maybe? It’d gotten dark and he’d slept (a fitful terrible sleep) and then it’d been morning and Karkat still hadn't shown back up.

John wasn’t actually sure what he’d do if Karkat didn’t come back.

Hypothetically, his leg would start feeling better and he could maybe fend for himself for a while. To be honest, though, he had never been the best at hunting _or_  gathering. Or even making a fire, or even _anything_. The others had always taken care of that. He was just there for a ride.

They were probably glad he was gone. He was basically just dead weight- who’d what that around? Did his dad even miss him? Did they sit around a fire at night and talk about how glad they were that that doofus John wasn’t there anymore?

Did they even look for him?

It should have been pretty easy to figure out where he had ended up. It was just at the bottom of the cliff. They could have at least called down to see if he’d answered.

Unless they thought he was dead.

Unless they were dead.

Fuck.

He had to- he had to breath. He had to calm down. They were fine. The attack had been sudden and confusing and he _was_  alive and he’d find them and everything would be fine.

Everything was fine.

A large snapping sound draws his attention quickly to the left, making his neck pop and his vision swim. “Karkat?” he calls hopefully.

It’s not Karkat.

It’s one of the white monsters. A- something. John doesn’t remember what they were called. Dave’s Bro would recount stories of fighting them, and he knows for a fact that his dad has a scar from when one of them attacked camp.

It’s standing a few yards away; eyes unwavering, shoulders hunched. It’s ready to attack.

John is going to die.

Oh god- he’s going to _die_.

He can’t move, he has virtually no upper body strength, his only source of _anything_  is god knows where- he’s going to die.

This dumb alien, animal, monster, _thing_  is going to maim and probably eat him.

It hunches over further.

Fuck.

John’s breaths start coming out faster and faster- he’s going to die. After making it this far, becoming-becoming _friends_  with one of the aliens he’s going to _die_  at the hands- _claws_  of this _thing_.

It’s going to be painful and terrible.

There will probably be blood.

He most certainly does not start crying.

“Fuck,” he manages, his voice choppy and strained, “fuck fuck fuck- Karkat!” The beast looks annoyed by his yell- good. “Kar- Karkat! Please! Fuck- I can’t- Karkat!”

He probably can’t even hear him yelling. Is probably so far gone that nothing John yells will ever reach him. He probably fixed up Johns leg like some good Samaritan and then figured that was good enough and ditched John’s pathetic mooching ass. _Shit_  he was going to _die_.

“Karkat! Please! Help, I can’t-!” the creature lurches forward, John screams.

It doesn’t move forward though, just stands there- eyes wide. It looks vaguely confused, tries to turn its head to look behind it but can’t seem to. A green liquid starts to seep around it’s neck and drip from it’s fur. It rears back and howls.

It goes to turn around completely but then it’s head is rolling a few feet away and it’s body falls to the ground in a heap.

Karkat stands over it’s body, looking mostly unconcerned. He takes a glance at John and says “Meat.”

John’s breath has gone completely. It takes him a few moments of glancing at the head, to Karkat, then back to the head to realize that he hasn’t been breathing. He takes a huge shaky breath.

“Meat.” Karkat says again, and kicks the carcass.

John swears.

He turns his gaze to Karkat and glares at him, his face still wet. “And where the fuck have you been?” He wishes his voice didn’t sound so wobbly and had more conviction.

Karkat shifts. “I get- meat. Food.”

John rubs at his face, “Come _here_.”

Karkat doesn’t move.

“Get the fuck over here you asshole.” He motions and rubs at his face again.

Karkat steps over the body uncertainly. There’s some green spots on his clothes, John doesn’t care.

“Here,” he says when he reaches John. When he can actually see John’s tear stained face he looks even more uncomfortable than usual.

John rolls his eyes. “Down here genious.” and pats the spot next to him.

Karkat squats awkwardly.

John huffs and reaches up a hand for him. Karkat flinches away (flinches from _John_  when he literally just killed a 200 some pound animal thing) but John’s faster and fists a hand in Karkat’s shirt and yanks him forward.

The skin at the back of Karkat’s neck is rough, texture, and his hair feels oddly course and thick. John crocks an elbow around his neck and pulls Karkat down to him, bringing his other arm to wrap around his back.

He’s shaking.

John, that is. Karkat is as stiff as a board.

“Sorry I just- shit Karkat I thought I was gonna die. Well I mean, I’ve sort of thought that perpetually this whole past week or whatever but _seriously_  you were gone and I didn’t think you were coming back and- fuck. I thought you were gone man. I thought you’d left me I thought-” he’s crying full out now, taking in huge gasping breaths and sniffling and burying his face in Karkat’s shoulder. “Sorry, just- I was really freaked out. God, I’m sorry. Just let me have this right now, sorry. I’ll let go in a minute.”

Karkat doesn’t make a sound. His arms are tense, hovering in the air where he brought them up to catch himself. He doesn’t touch John, but he doesn’t move away either. John’s not sure if that’s good or bad, but at least he isn’t trying to claw John’s eyes out.

“Sorry,” says John when he thinks he finally has control over his breathing, “I- I’ll let go. Sorry, Karkat.” And he goes to do just that, his arms loosening from his grip.

Except then Karkat’s arms tentatively move to hug him back. Still stiff- always stiff- and unsure, he puts an arm around John’s back, and the other goes to awkwardly pat his shoulder. It’s uncomfortable because John’s still leaning against the tree but this is the most contact he’s had in over a week and it’s pretty great.

Karkat makes an unsure ‘shh’ing sound, and John has to try not to cry all over again.

He’s trying.

He’s uncomfortable- John _knows_  he’s uncomfortable- but he’s still trying to comfort John and that’s-

That’s nice.

When they do let go Karkat looks away, eyebrows knit together and eyes downcast. He won’t look at John.

“Thanks,” John says, he rubs the back of his neck, “Uh, I needed that. Sorry. But yeah. Thanks- thank you. For- for humoring me or whatever.” He laughs.

Karkat bites his lip but still doesn’t look at John. Eventually he says “meat” and moves back to the carcass.

“Thanks for that too,” says John, “for bringing food all the time to lil ol’ helpless me.” Karkat shrugs and John’s not sure if he’s even understood any of what was just said, but John lets it drop.

Later that night when Karkat has another fire going and actually sits sorta near John and they’re eating weird tough meat John says “thanks for coming back.”

Karkat freezes, and glances at him. They hold eye contact for a moment before he looks away again. “Yes.”


End file.
